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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24079459">cow and punishment</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/'>Anonymous</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anal Sex, Butt Plugs, Caning, Catboys &amp; Catgirls, Corporal Punishment, Hucow, M/M, Milking, Multi, Not Beta Read, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rimming, Trans Male Character, Trans Martin Blackwood, Vaginal Fingering, incidental breeding kink, pure irredeemable filth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 21:02:29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,707</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24079459</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
      <p>Terms used for Martin's parts include cunt and teats.</p>
    </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Jonathan Sims/Martin Blackwood, Martin Blackwood/Peter Lukas, Martin Blackwood/Peter Lukas/Jonathan Sims</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>122</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Anonymous</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>cow and punishment</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Terms used for Martin's parts include cunt and teats.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The first few moments of waking are almost blissful. Martin’s teats are painfully full, but he’s otherwise comfortable and Jon’s face is warm between his legs.</p><p>There’s something about it that should bother him, but Martin doesn’t remember what it is until the stall door creaks open and Peter says, “Well, well. I don’t call that being very good at all.”</p><p>Martin sits up with a yelp. Jon is slow to remove himself, glaring at Peter like he has no sense of self-preservation, which in fact he doesn’t. “Peter, I’m sorry!” Martin hastens to say.</p><p>“I’m not,” Jon mutters. Martin glares at him.</p><p>Peter just looks amused. “Perhaps you will be after some time in the discipline room.”</p><p>Martin pales. He doesn’t know what Peter does to Jon in the discipline room but the last time Jon went, he came back drawn and shaking. Martin can’t let that happen again. “No, please. I, it was my fault, I made him.” He covers Jon’s mouth with his hand before Jon can land them in bigger trouble. Jon makes muffled indignant noises.</p><p>“Did he, now.” Peter doesn’t sound like he believes Martin one bit, but neither does he look like he cares whether he’s telling the truth, which is what Martin’s relying on. “I suppose in that case, you better come to the discipline room with me.”</p><p>Martin detangles himself from Jon and hurries to follow Peter, who slams the stall door closed and locks it the moment Martin’s out, leaving Jon yowling furiously inside.</p><p>~</p><p>Even inside the punishment room, Martin can distantly hear the sounds of Jon's distress.</p><p>The discipline room has sturdy furniture to which recalcitrant stock can be tied in numerous positions. Peter leads Martin and tells him to kneel in front of a chair.</p><p>"Teats on the seat," Peter says. "As far inside as you can get them. Then hands behind your back." He goes to the wall, looking at various implements hanging there.</p><p>Martin's teats are large and soft. When he moves his chest as close to the edge of the chair as he can be, and rests his teats on it, they take up more than half the seat. Up till now, punishment involved lying in Peter's lap, getting his teats or his arse spanked. Martin has a feeling he knows what's coming. </p><p>Peter turns back to him, holding a long, thin cane. Martin trembles. "Not bad," Peter says after a brief observation. "But thrust your chest out more, you don't want me to hit you in the face by accident."</p><p>An involuntary whimper escapes Martin. His teats throb, already hurting with fullness.  </p><p>Peter grins. "That's what I like to hear. Twenty strokes. If you move, I'll start counting from the beginning." He claps Martin on the shoulder. "Cheer up. This could be your little cat friend."</p><p>The cane makes a swoosh as it arcs through the air. </p><p>Martin doesn't bother keeping silent. He emits a short, sharp wail when it hits him the first time. Peter likes to hear him, and it's not like Martin has any pride to keep.</p><p>On the third stroke, Martin flinches. Peter sighs. "Back to zero. Should I make you keep count?" Martin makes a low moan at the next hit. Peter shakes his head. "Of course not, how silly of me. Cows can't count."</p><p>On the next strike, wetness gathers at Martin's eyes and nipples both. On the one after it, the wetness runs. </p><p>Peter clicks his tongue. "Is this the proper place for milking? I think not. Ten more strokes for you, naughty thing."</p><p>Martin's not surprised. Peter would have found some reason to extend this, one way or another. He lets himself cry noisily, messily. Peter likes it when he does. </p><p>As the next strike pushes more of his milk out, Martin feels himself getting wet in other places, too. It happens whenever he's milked, even under circumstances such as this. It'd happened when Peter spanked his teats, too. </p><p>Of course Peter notices. "Oh? Getting all worked up, aren't we? Have you forgotten this is a punishment?" Peter says. "Perhaps I should make that clearer. Hands and elbows on the chair, arse in the air."</p><p>That, too, is predictable. Peter has some sort of fixation with Martin's arse, perhaps because he knows being fucked there makes Martin uncomfortable. He's meant for breeding, for milking. Fucking him where he can't be bred is just not right. </p><p>And yet that is exactly what Peter does. He does use a good amount of lube - worried about damaging his prize breeder, if Martin may toot his own horn - sliding inside Martin with a groan. </p><p>Martin also makes a noise, wriggling around Peter's cock. It makes him hyperaware of how empty his cunt is, how long it's been since he last came. "Peter." The word comes out in a needy whine. "Please."</p><p>Peter hums in approval. He slaps Martin's arse a few times, just for form's sake apparently, and bends over Martin to squeeze his teats. "Oh? Do you need more?"</p><p>Martin arcs into Peter's touch despite the welts and bruises forming on his teats. Peter pinches his nipples, making milk dribble freely. "Please."</p><p>Peter lets go of one nipple to sharply slap Martin's arse again. "Tighten up, princess. I want your sweet little arse milking my cock." Martin pants and tries his best to obey. </p><p>It doesn't take long for Peter to come. He pulls out and shoves something cold and hard inside Martin, some kind of plug probably. "Be right back," Peter says cheerfully. "Don't move."</p><p>Martin keeps still. </p><p>He grows more worried by the second, though, images of Jon managing to earn Peter's wrath again dancing through his mind. </p><p>When Peter comes back in, he's whistling. He is also dragging Jon along by the scruff of his neck. Jon's got his claws out, tiny but extremely sharp. Peter pays it no mind. </p><p>Jon manages to wrestle himself free of Peter's grasp, only to freeze when he gets a good look at Martin. He makes a broken noise as he takes in Martin's posture, the marks on his teats. Then he turns to Peter and snarls, "What did you do to him?"</p><p>"Caned his teats and fucked his arse," Peter says, unperturbed. "It occurs to me I promised him at least ten more strokes." Martin looks up, wracking his mind for a way to convince Peter to have Jon go out. If Jon sees him getting hit--</p><p>"Or," Peter says, "we could try another option."</p><p>Jon is so tense he's almost vibrating. "And what's that?"</p><p>Peter grabs him by the hair and shoves him to his knees behind Martin. Martin holds still with bated breath, but it seems Jon was able to behave himself for once. </p><p>Martin gasps as Peter takes out the plug and Jon's face presses into his sensitive, sore backside. </p><p>"I'll let you take a breath now," Peter says, conversationally. "Then you're going to eat Martin without stopping to breathe until either  he comes or you pass out. If you make him come, I'll forgive the rest of the punishment. If you pass out, you both get fifteen strokes each." Peter pauses. "Or you could give in now, and watch Martin take his strokes." A pause. "Well? What'll it be?"</p><p>Martin closes his eyes, because he knows what Jon will choose. Goddamnit, he wanted to avoid exactly this.</p><p>Jon says, "I'll eat him out." Of course he does, the stubborn alleycat. </p><p>The next thing Martin knows, Jon is licking him, so gentle that Martin wants to cry.</p><p>"You might want to step it up," Peter says. "You don't have very long."</p><p>Martin can imagine Jon's fur fluffing up in outrage, but Jon's mouth becomes bolder, licking deep into him. Martin gasps. </p><p>"Yes, that's it," Peter says. "Lick up all the come I put inside him, get it in your mouth. If I knew you were so desperate for it, I'd have let you have it from the source."</p><p>Jon growls and keeps going. Martin shuts his eyes, maddened by the tease of Jon's mouth, by his cunt clamouring to be filled, his teats desperate to be milked. </p><p>"Peter," Martin says, eyes shut. "Please milk me." He's pretty sure that's what Peter's aiming for. </p><p>Of course, Peter won't let it be that easy. "I thought I told you this isn't a milking area."</p><p>"Please," Martin whispers. "I need it so much, I'll be so good for you."</p><p>That's enough to get Peter to give in, which tells Martin Peter was definitely intending for this to happen. "I suppose I could put down a bucket." He does just that and crouches next to Martin, sure calloused hands on both his teats.</p><p>At the first squirt of milk, Martin almost sobs in relief. At the second one, he does sob, incoherent pleas coming out of his mouth. He rears back so Jon can tongue-fuck him deeper, pushes forward to where Peter is pulling on his nipples, and neither of these things is enough but together they're almost, almost--</p><p>Jon scrapes his teeth against Martin's rim, and Peter gives him a particularly nasty pinch, and that's enough. Not for a full orgasm, but for a small, almost polite one, the kind Peter likes best for Martin. </p><p>"That's a good boy," Peter says, rich with approval. "Go ahead and breathe, Jon, seems like the two of you earned a respite." He pauses. "As soon as Martin cleans up all the spilled milk, of course."</p><p>Peter takes the bucket with him, and Martin bends to lap the droplets of his own milk off the plastic chair. </p><p>~</p><p>Peter takes them back to their stall afterwards and locks them there. As soon as the door shuts, Jon pushes Martin down to the straw-covered ground and cuddles him.</p><p>Martin holds him close. He's so tired, even though it was barely any time since he woke up. He can sink right to sleep. There's just one thing missing. He lets out a soft whine.</p><p>"Ah, yes," Jon murmurs, and slips three fingers inside of Martin's sopping wet cunt. "Is that better?"</p><p>Martin shivers and nods, clinging to Jon, falling asleep with his teats drained and his cunt full, just the way he should be.</p>
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